That’s not what Maria said, I thought, but decided not to say so.
‘Did Declan ride for Oliver as well?’
‘Hardy ever. I don’t think Ryan liked it. If he was unavailable or if there were two or more runners in the same race, Ryan told his father to engage other jockeys rather than Declan. Ryan regularly made a joke about it — only it wasn’t funny. Not for us, anyway.’
‘Was that why the brothers fell out?’
‘Not really,’ Arabella said, continuing to be wonderfully indiscreet. ‘They’ve apparently been at each other’s throats since they were kids. Ryan is the eldest son and he has always insisted on his younger brothers being deferential and submissive. But Declan won’t be.’
‘How about Tony?’ I asked. ‘Is he deferential and submissive?’
‘He doesn’t like it but he fears his riding career might depend on it, and he’s probably right. He was absolutely desperate to keep the ride on Prince of Troy in the Derby, not that that matters now. So he bows and scrapes when Ryan can see him then sticks two fingers up as soon as he turns his back. It would be funny if it wasn’t so sad.’
‘So you think it’s sad?’
‘Sure it is,’ she said. ‘Brothers should be best mates, surely, especially living so close.’
‘Do you see anything of Susan?’
‘Not really. She’s too damn preoccupied with her kids.’
‘How old are they?’ I asked.
‘Five and two. A girl first, then a boy.’
‘How long have Ryan and Susan been married?’
‘Eight years. Same as us. We got married two months after them, even though we’d announced it first. It was as if Ryan couldn’t face being second in that race either.’
‘Do you and Declan have any children?’ I asked, all innocently.
‘No,’ she said abruptly, and in a manner that made me think that the whole question of children was a sore point. Perhaps that, too, had something to do with the animosity between the brothers.
‘Maybe you’ll see more of Susan when her kids get a bit older.’
‘I doubt it,’ she said. ‘This has gone too far for that.’
‘What’s gone too far?’ I asked pointedly.
‘All this Sheikh Karim stuff. I wish he’d never said he was moving horses from Ryan to us. Ryan is livid. So is Oliver. They accuse us of going behind their backs.’
‘And did you?’
‘No. Of course not.’
There was something about her voice that didn’t ring totally true.
‘So you had no contact with the Sheikh at all?’ I said. ‘I could check with him.’
‘Declan and I sat next to him at the Guineas Ball last month.’
‘And?’ I prompted.
‘We asked him to consider sending some horses to us but we didn’t expect him to move two fillies already with Ryan. We would never have wanted that.’
‘But you agreed to take them.’
‘Well, yes. But they’re not here yet. We’re renovating some old boxes to make room.’
‘You could always tell the Sheikh you don’t want them.’
She looked at me as if I were mad.
‘But why would we? Sheikh Karim is the big catch in racing. Everyone knows that. He’s the next Sheikh Mohammed.’
‘But Sheikh Mohammed pays millions for his horses.’ Even I knew that. ‘Sheikh Karim doesn’t spend that sort of money.’
‘But he might do in time. Sheikh Mohammed’s first ever winner was a filly called Hatta, and she cost a mere six thousand as a yearling. And look what that led to. Sheikh Karim told us he intends to greatly increase his involvement in the sport and we want to be part of it. He also wants to start a breeding operation.’
Yes, I thought, with Prince of Troy as his foundation stallion. I wondered if the fire had put that plan on hold indefinitely.
At this point Declan came downstairs and into the kitchen, his black hair still damp from his shower, and he was clearly not very happy to see me.
‘What the hell do you want?’ he asked gruffly.
‘The Sheikh told me to come round and see if things are ready for his fillies.’
It wasn’t true but Declan wasn’t to know that.
‘Oh, yes, of course,’ he said, as if suddenly remembering who I represented. ‘Almost ready. Just waiting for the flooring to be done. Should be finished today.’
‘Can I see?’ I asked.
‘Don’t see why not.’
We went out the back door and into the yard where his staff were still rushing around with buckets of feed or wheelbarrows full of soiled wood shavings.
‘You don’t use shredded paper then?’ I asked, trying to sound knowledgeable.
‘Sometimes,’ Declan replied. ‘Depends on the price. I’ve recently switched from shredded paper to wood chippings. It’s cheaper at the moment. Also it doesn’t blow around as much. Less mess.’
‘I always thought that straw was used for horse bedding.’
‘Used to be universal but it’s so difficult to get good-quality straw these days. It has too much dust in it for my liking, and it can be full of spores. Not good for their respiration.’
Everything, it seemed, was determined by what was good for the horses.
‘How many boxes do you have?’ I asked.
‘Fifty-six, plus the four being renovated.’
‘Are you full?’
‘Bursting at the seams. The four new boxes are already allocated and I’m thinking of putting up temporary stables round the back as an overflow. I have several owners on a waiting list to increase their strings. Lack of space is my main problem.’
‘Did the Sheikh jump the queue?’
‘Of course he did,’ Declan said with a smile. ‘I’d have cleared someone else out completely if I’d needed to. He’s what I’ve been crying out for to finance a move to a bigger yard.’
‘So why have you kept his fillies waiting?’
‘Only by a few days. They’ll be here tomorrow.’
‘Your father and brother don’t like it,’ I said.
He snorted, but with amusement rather than distress. ‘Tough.’
In spite of what his wife had said, I wondered if Declan had actively encouraged the Sheikh to move the fillies from Ryan.
We continued to walk past the row of stables, the equine occupants sticking their heads out over the half-doors to inspect us. Declan went over and patted a few, including a big brown horse with a black mane.
‘This is Orion’s Glory. My best horse by far.’ Declan took a carrot out of his pocket and gave it to the great beast. ‘Three-year-old colt by Sea The Stars.’
I must have looked blank rather than impressed.
‘Sea The Stars won the Two Thousand Guineas, the Epsom Derby and the Prix de l’Arc de Triomphe all in the same year.’
‘Oh,’ I said. ‘Is that unusual?’
‘Only horse ever to do it. One of the best there’s ever been.’
‘Better than Prince of Troy?’ I asked.
‘We’ll never know,’ Declan replied, without showing any emotion. ‘His death is a huge loss to racing.’
‘And to your brother.’
He snorted again. ‘He was bloody lucky.’
‘Surely you mean unlucky?’
‘He was lucky to have had the horse in the first place,’ Declan said with passion. ‘And lucky not to have then ruined him.’
‘In what way?’ I asked.
‘Ran him too often. Six races as a two-year-old are far too many.’
‘But he won them all.’
‘Yeah, that was the problem. Ryan was so desperate for winners that he kept going back to the same well time and time again. He was bloody lucky he didn’t burn the horse out before he even started in the Guineas. Golden Horn and Galileo, both Derby winners, they ran only once each as two-year-olds, and then not until October. Ryan was just being greedy.’